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wheeboo · 5 months ago

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candy | yoon jeonghan {TEASER}

SYNOPSIS. After moving back into the city to be closer with friends and family, you start receiving letters from an unknown sender in your mail. When curiosity gets the better of you, you decide to respond, and what begins as a simple sweet-tasting exchange soon blossoms into something more with someone you’ve never met—or so you think. But as the snow continues to fall, you find yourself confronting the bitter-tasting feelings you thought were long buried back in your youth, as well as the person who’s been hiding in plain sight all along. Loosely inspired from vocal unit’s, Candy. PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x gn!reader (ft. soonyoung, mingyu, joshua, seokmin, seungkwan) GENRE. fluff, penpal au, angst, exes to lovers, second chance romance WARNINGS. swearing, alcohol and food consumption, mental health mentions, jeonghan and reader broke up on bad terms, so much longing!!! and pining!!!!!, one-bed trope, unfortunately they're still in love and are lil idiots 😔 WORD COUNT (FOR THE TEASER). 1.5k WORD COUNT. (FOR FULL FIC). 15k-20k

notes: me publishing this in the hopes i won't hate this when i finish it (it's almost done)! anyway, this is my teaser for the @camandemstudios "winter with you" collab! if you'd like to be tagged specifically for this fic, feel free to leave a comment/ask! to sign up for the taglist for the entire collab, you can fill it out here!

You don’t know why you’re standing in front of the café again.

It’s late, far later than you intended to be out. Bags of convenience store food are tightly gripped in your hands, snow crunching beneath your feet as you take another step towards the door of the cafe, before stepping back again.

You feel ridiculous standing there, like the answer lies right behind the door, and all you had to do was push it open. The soft glow of the lights inside spills through the frosted glass, casting warm hues on the snowy pavement. The temptation to just walk away gnaws at you.

What are you even hoping to accomplish here?

You sigh, your breath floating like wisps in the cold air, shaking your head dismissively. The bags in your hands crinkle as you shift your grip, trying to convince yourself that this is a bad idea. But then, as if on autopilot, your feet move forward, and as you are about to push through the door, it swings open by itself.

Jeonghan steps out, his coat slung loosely over his shoulders, his blonde hair catching the soft light. He freezes when he sees you, the surprise in his eyes giving way to something else𑁋something unreadable. And you could only stand there, like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, or minute, maybe even a whole damn hour, neither of you speak.

He’s the first to break the silence.

“Did you want to come in?” he asks.

“I𑁋no,” You stammer, gripping the bags in your hands even tighter. “I was just passing by.”

Jeonghan simply stares at you for a beat or two, his lips forming a thin line.

“You were never really a good liar, you know.”

You wince at the words, even though they aren't said harshly. It’s the fact that he still knows you so well, despite everything that’s passed between the two of you. It makes the sting go even deeper into your heart. The years apart have changed you, shaped you in ways that should’ve made him a stranger.

And yet, here he is, looking at you like nothing’s different.

“Okay, I was… I was thinking of getting some coffee before𑁋”

“Since when did you become a coffee person?”

The slight quirk you catch on his lips makes your stomach twist into an uneasy knot. You hate how he seems to still know you like the lines on the back of your hand, hate how he can still read you so easily, even after all this time.

You hate how you can’t fully hate him, even if you’ve convinced yourself enough times that you’re supposed to.

Jeonghan’s eyes flicker curiously over you once more, and there’s a slight shiver to your limbs that he catches sight of.

“Do you want to come inside? I could give you some coffee before I𑁋”

“No,” You cut him off sharply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “I’m fine. I just... I don’t want anything from you.”

Jeonghan’s expression falters, the familiar trace of concern flickering behind his eyes. It makes you nearly want to give in, but you refuse to show that vulnerability, because you don’t want to feel that way again. You don’t want to be the person who needs him. You can’t let yourself fall back into his orbit, because does the sun really care if you burn yourself trying to get close to it again?

He doesn’t move, his eyes narrowing and softening into something contemplative. His gaze still doesn’t leave you, studying the way you stand, as if trying to figure out what’s going on inside your head. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind his ear and steps back up a fraction, letting his shoulders deflate in what may be defeat.

“It’s really been a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallow hard. You can’t deny that it’s been so long, but here he is, standing in front of you, almost the same, yet so different. Maybe it’s the more mature look in his eyes, but something about him feels less like the Jeonghan you once knew, and you can’t quite place your finger on why that makes you even more unsettled.

“Yeah. It has.”

Jeonghan shifts between his two feet and stuffs his hands inside the pockets of his coat. You remember how easily cold he would get back then, always wrapping himself in layers even when the air wasn’t particularly chilly or sneaking his hands into your pockets as an excuse to get close with you.

A part of you wishes he’d just leave. You wish you could escape to avoid this conversation. But you’re stuck here, frozen under his gaze, as if time has both stretched and shrunk all at once. The very thing you feared was happening𑁋you’re back where it all began.

“You look great,” he says, the words coming out softer than you expect.

Your heart skips, and you curse at it mentally for betraying you. “Jeonghan, you can’t just𑁋”

“Can’t just what?” he interrupts gently, almost teasingly, and it makes the words die in your throat. His expression holds none of the coldness it used to. No. This is different.

You suck in a deep breath, shaking your head as if trying to clear the fog that’s settling over your mind. You want to tell him to stop looking at you like that, to stop making everything feel so complicated, to stop making your heart flutter yet hide itself away. But the words don’t come out right.

“I… I didn’t come here for you, you know,” You confess weakly, and you hate how easily your voice crumbles.

Jeonghan doesn’t respond right away. His eyes flicker down to the bags in your hands, and then back to you, studying the way you shift uncomfortably under his gaze. There’s a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Yeah?” There’s a faint smirk to his features as he steps closer to you, but not enough to close the distance completely. “Then what are you doing here?”

The cold air nips achingly at the skin of your cheek, your lips pursing into a thin line to keep anything from spilling out.

“I don’t know.”

You’re met with an arch of a brow, an incredulous look plaguing his features. You hate it. You want him to stop looking at you like he has the answer to your thoughts, like he knows more about what you’re going through than you do. But you’ve already dug yourself in a hole𑁋you just lied in front of him, and he knows.

Jeonghan takes another step closer, the distance between the two of you shrinking by a fraction, as if testing the waters. He’s so close now. Too close. You can feel the warmth radiating off his body, the same warmth that once made you feel safe. The same warmth that you ran from when everything fell apart between you.

And you take that chance to run away again.

“I should go,” You let out nimbly, clutching the bags in your hands, turning your back toward him, not before muttering out a quiet, “I’ll… see you around.”

Jeonghan watches as you walk away, and you feel his eyes shoot lasers through you as the distance between the two of you grows.

When he brings his gaze down to the snow-covered pavement, he lightly chuckles under his breath, shaking his head as if he’s caught between a sigh and a laugh. It’s not mocking, though. There’s something softer in it, perhaps heavier, sadder. But of course, you don’t hear it. You’re too far away now.

You don’t dare look back. If you do, you know you’ll fall apart.

Dear 526, Hello. Sorry, it’s been a few days since I’ve opened my mail. Promise me you’ve been keeping warm, or else. Sending my thanks to Google as I write this, literally. Strange times continue, I’m afraid. Let’s just say someone walked back into my life unexpectedly, and now I’m trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse. All the memories came back with them too. A blessing because I haven’t seen them in a long time; a curse because it was simply my fault for screwing up things with them in the first place. I don’t know. Does that make sense? Sorry, I’m rambling. You said you don’t mind long letters, though, so here’s me testing the waters. Anyway, how have you been settling in the city? I can imagine it must be quite daunting. Keep hanging in there, though. - 017

To 017, Funny that you mention memories. They’ve been on my mind a lot too. As for your question, I think I understand. Do you ever wonder why we hold onto certain memories so tightly? Even the painful ones? It’s like a part of you is afraid to let them go because you feel like you’d lose pieces of yourself along with them. It’s complicated. Maybe that’s a little too philosophical for this letter. I guess I’ve been in my head too much. Perhaps the past isn’t as easy to leave behind as we think. Other than that, I hope this person doesn’t cause you too much heartache. I’ll fight them if you need me to. I think I’ve been making peace with the city. Some days are good. Some days are bad. But maybe this is where I’ve always belonged. - 526

Once again, you pin 017’s letter on your refrigerator, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

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#winterwithyoucollab #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan imagines #yoon jeonghan fluff #yoon jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan fic #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #svt fic #svt #seventeen

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yandere-sins · 2 years ago

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Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

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petalsprompts · 3 months ago

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𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍; 𝚀𝚄𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂 𝚂𝙾𝚄𝚁𝙲𝙴𝙳 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙶𝙾𝙾𝙳𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂.

change pronouns, tenses and other details as deemed necessary. & please specify muse when sending to a mumu. slightly edited wording for roleplaying purposes.

My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.

What reason weaves, by passion is undone.

None of us can choose where we shall love...

Feeling too much is a hell of a lot better than feeling nothing.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

A great fire burns within me, but no one stops to warm themselves at it, and passersby only see a wisp of smoke

I want to know what passion is. I want to feel something strongly.

I envy people that know love. That have someone who takes them as they are.

If something burns your soul with purpose and desire, it’s your duty to be reduced to ashes by it.

I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love.

I raised you so high that every other on earth is now doomed to live in your shadow.

You have corrupted my imagination and inflamed my blood.

You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.

People wait around too long for love. I'm happy with my lusts.

The human body is the best work of art.

I would rather die of passion than of boredom.

Your memory feels like home to me. So whenever my mind wanders, it always finds its way back to you.

What if you find your soul mate... at the wrong time?

Only the united beat of sex and heart together can create ecstasy.

Light yourself on fire with passion and people will come from miles to watch you burn.

My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.

#& a petal #& romance #rp meme #ask meme #rp meme prompt #passion rp meme #rp memes #rp ask meme #rp prompt #rp prompts #ask memes #inbox memes #roleplay ask memes #writing prompts

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ao3usermelancholyhues · 11 months ago

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𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐝

steve harrington/eddie munson for @steddiemicrofic’s june prompt: stuff, 483 words (also incorporates may's prompt word, 'top'). ft. double anal penetration, use of a dildo, top!steve / bottom!eddie | E rating 🍆 read on ao3 🍆

“Tell me you’re a good boy.”

Steve’s got this wicked edge to his tone, sick little smile as he watches Eddie struggle and shake on top of him.

“I-I’m a good boy,” Eddie agrees, nodding, eyes screwed shut, sweat beading on his forehead.

“Tell me you’re so proud of yourself.”

Eddie squirms, cock leaking over Steve’s belly. He ruts into his mess with a whine.

“I’m so— I’m so proud of myself.”

"You should be.”

Steve pulls the dildo out and pushes it back in out of sync with the pace he’s thrusting his cock, never leaving Eddie empty. The dildo’s at least as thick as his own girth; Eddie’s stretched wider than he’s ever been. Stretched the way he’s been begging for for months while they trained him, while he swore up and down that he was ready.

Steve promised him a big reward if Corroded Coffin’s second album did well. It’s been out for a week and it’s topped the alternative charts—sold over double the units of their first album. Everything’s abuzz with radio interviews, magazine photoshoots… even talk of potential TV appearances. Eddie’s been bouncing off the walls about it for days.

Now he’s so stuffed full there’s tears sticking his eyelashes together, a constant high-pitched whimper filling the air between them. Doubly filled for his chart-topping album, and he’s not sure how it could be any better.

“You take it so well,” Steve murmurs, one hand a bruising grip on Eddie’s hip to help keep him in place while he fucks into him, slow drags of his cock, then the dildo, then his cock…

“I want it faster,” Eddie gasps, hands clenched into fists. He wants to push back, wants to bounce on both cocks so badly, but Steve told him to be still and he’s trying.

Steve narrows his eyes, though Eddie’s still got his tightly shut. His hair’s curling more at the ends from the sweat, wisps sticking to his cheeks, his forehead. Steve wants to lean up and kiss him, lick the salt off his top lip. He gives Eddie’s hip a squeeze, slips that hand around to grip his ass and spread him open more. The motion stretches Eddie’s hole differently, makes him gasp then moan.

“You’re not ready,” Steve says decidedly, and Eddie hates the finality of his tone. “Just be happy with your reward tonight, sweet love.”

With a whine, Eddie shakes his head and finally opens his eyes. “Steve, please, faster. It’s my reward, I want it faster.”

Without warning, Steve forces both his cock and the dildo in to their bases in a quick snap that takes Eddie’s breath away, lube squelching obscenely at the suddenness of it.

Steve looks up into Eddie’s widened, wet eyes, extends his neck as far as he can to kiss his plump bottom lip where his mouth is hanging open.

“You are not ready yet.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #fic

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professional-crybb · 1 month ago

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The Dread Wolf & his bride || Janais Lavellan & Solas

I've been having a lot of thoughts about what Solas and Lavellan's life looks like in the Fade after Veilguard, especially the domestic parts of it. here are a couple of my headcanons / vignettes / personal Solavellan lore, re: life in the Fade, mostly from my bsky:

Dalish braids

braids hold a cultural significance to the Dalish, symbolizing both the past, present, and future of the elven people as well as the interconnectedness of all things, from the Fade to the material world. Janais has always worn her hair braided, but after she losing her arm, she had to completely relearn how to braid it one-handed as she chooses not to use a prosthetic most of the time. it takes a great deal of time and practice to relearn the skill, but after losing her entire clan, the act of braiding became a sort of ritual for her, allowing her to reconnect with her clan and her heritage.

after Janais joins Solas in the Fade, one morning he wakes to find her awake with her back to him. she is braiding her hair. he watches her intently, silently mesmerized as she weaves her long hair into two long braids, one-handed. there is a pang of guilt within him knowing he is the reason she lost her arm in the first place, but also pride in her resilience. from then on, he often helps her braid her hair—not because she isn't capable of doing it herself, but as an intimate expression of his love for her. he teaches her intricate styles from ancient Arlathan—even some he used to wear! some resemble the traditional Dalish styles her mother taught her, but many are new to her.

bonding ceremony

on the day of their bonding ceremony, Solas braids her hair into a traditional Elvhen style. it takes quite a while to do, and they are both quiet the whole time, meditating on their lives leading up to this moment, their loved ones who are no longer with them, and the future ahead which neither of them ever expected to have.

they take their vows in a simple self-uniting ceremony in a shaded grove in a lush pocket the Fade. spirits of love, hope, compassion, curiosity, and wisdom are all drawn to bear witness to their union, many leaving flowers at their feet.

they have matching rings, both intricately carved with a braided pattern representing their union and marigolds for remembrance of lost loved ones. the rings are also inlaid with a beautiful opal for forgiveness. Janais' ring is made of veil quartz (I imagine it resembles jade) and Solas' is bone, carved from his wolf's jaw pendant.

home for spirits

I am still undecided on whether they will eventually have children in my canon, but the one thing I do know is that Solas and Janais' home in the Fade is a refuge for spirits. they are caregivers to wisps, the "rarer, gentler" spirits, newly born spirits.

they welcome them into their home, care for them, and help them grow into their purpose by playing with spirits of curiosity, reading to spirits of learning… spirits of love following everywhere they go. there is a proliferation of newly born spirits of love, compassion, and hope that form around them, a reflection of their loving partnership.

#my art #my ocs #oc: janais lavellan #solas #solavellan #solavellan heaven #solavellan hell #solas x female lavellan #solas x lavellan #veilguard spoilers #datv spoilers

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hotchs-big-hands · 2 years ago

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What did you call me?

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|4.9k words

Aaron Hotchner x plus size fem!reader

NSFW Minors dni please

Warning(s): some angst, yearning, details about graphic crime scenes, strip clubs/sex clubs.

When Dom/sub couples begin to show up murdered mid-coital, the BAU team is brought in to solve the case. But as more couples are found and the unsub remains undetected, it becomes an undercover mission. The posing Dom/sub couple in question? Your intimidating, attractive boss and you.

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Hey everyone, welcome to my first fanfic! I used to write and post stuff back in 2018ish but it was a different fandom. I've not written and posted anything tho since then so I'm a bit nervous! But idk I just got back into cm recently and I saw Hotch and my brain was like oh yeah 👁️👁️ (I used to be a Spencer girlie) and I've mostly written stuff for myself but I decided imma start doing stuff on here too! I hope you enjoy and lemme know if you wanna be tagged in future writings 🥰 side note, I'm a fat gal so I will probably centre most of my stuff around plus size readers cuz there's not enough of it for plus size Hotch girlies 😔 but technically anyone can read and enjoy it! This was getting extremely long so I'm splitting it into three parts so here's the first one! Anyway, enjoy 💅

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The feeling of something blunt lightly bounced against your forehead, making you blink a few times and rub the area with your hand.

"Hey... Who did that?" You grumbled, eyes darting from one face of your coworkers to the next. Three of them all pointed towards the culprit and as your eyes drifted back to him you were met with a cheeky grin on the charming, dark-skinned man's face.

"You were spaced out, sugar." Derek Morgan said. "Got a lot on your mind?"

"Got a lot of him on her mind, more like." A voice cut in smugly, flustering you in an instant, your heart beginning to race. Your eyes flicked to Prentiss, the pristine raven haired woman was smirking at you, her eyes glinting. You squeaked and shifted in your office chair nervously.

"No, Em! Just... couldn't sleep last night."

The weak explanation didn't help, it only widened the smirk on Prentiss' face as she leaned forward.

"Oh? Do tell us more."

"There's nothing to say!" You abruptly turned to the casefile that lay open on your slightly messy desk and tried to ignore the movement at the corner of your eye; Emily was shuffling her chair over to you, no doubt still with that annoying smirk on her face.

"Oh it sure sounds like there is though."

Before you had the chance to defend yourself an all too familiar voice demanded everyone's attention and subsequently caused a shiver to trickle down your spine. Your hands gripped onto your chair.

"My team; in the conference room now. We have a case." Your unit chief spoke. All heads turned to the direction of a slightly elevated walkway where a sharply dressed man stood for a mere moment, locking eyes with yours, before he began walking briskly towards the mentioned conference room.

Fuck. Hotch was wearing your favourite suit and tie today and a few stray wisps of his short, dark hair stubbornly lay over his forehead, no matter how often he must have tried to push them up off his face. Everyday was harder than the previous working with that man. The moment you'd attended your interview months ago, sitting in front of the brooding man, you knew you were fucked. Yes, you had been eager to join the famed BAU unit and were grateful for the opportunity that arose but you'd be lying if another reason you eagerly answered all the questions prompted to you in that interview wasn't because you were instantly attracted to Aaron Hotchner. However, that was almost a year ago now and you were struggling with your growing attraction to the man the more you were around him. Your coworkers and friends certainly were no help, given they'd soon caught onto your crush.

A hand waved in front of your face and you blinked.

"Time to go, lovergirl." Prentiss teased and you sighed, quickly joining the others as they made their way to the case briefing. You needed to focus.

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Landing in Chicago a few hours later, the team were thrust into a gnarly investigation involving couples being murdered in their hotel rooms mid-coital. The crime scene photos were hard to look at, to say the least. Setting up a base of operations in the police department didn't take too long and currently you were in the midst of interviewing family members of the deceased along with Hotch at his insistence. It wasn't often that you took part in these interviews, even less often did Hotch ever team you up with him. Quite frankly, it made you feel a little nervous, but there was no way you'd question his decision. And certainly, you did not miss the subtle smug look Emily gave you as you trailed after the man you thought about way too much.

Sitting beside him in the SUV, just the two of you alone made your head feel a little bit floaty as you tried your best to remain as stoic as possible, reminding yourself of the details of the case so far and of the little bits of information from the families you'd spoken to. Even with the effort there was no preventing the permeating scent of his cologne and a hint of his own natural musk from scrambling your brain. He smelled good, too good, and the way his hands gripped the steering wheel from the quick glances you dared peek developed a heat to coil within the depths of your lower abdomen.

"Are you alright?" His voice brought you out of your thoughts. You felt flushed.

"H-huh?" You felt dumbstruck, all because of him. He exhaled through his nose sharply, clearly dissatisfied with your response.

"You're distracted."

Oh. Of course he could pick up on it. You shifted in your seat, subtly rubbing your plump thighs together.

"I'm okay, I guess I've not had enough to drink today though. I'll get some water when we head back to the station." Not a lie, technically. You'd forgotten your bottle of water you normally had ready to fill up to take on cases. Hotch hummed, the sound deep and making you clench between your thighs.

"I did notice you didn't have your water like you usually do. I should have said something." He said. Wait, he noticed? You didn't think he picked up on things about you, he didn't often appear to pay attention to you besides on a strictly professional level. But as you turned your head to him in surprise his brows were furrowed in frustration, as though annoyed with himself for not saying anything.

"Oh no, it's fine. I've been a bit of a scatterbrain as of late." You admitted sheepishly, a little smile on your lips. Hotch glanced at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, then back to your eyes, making your breath hitch.

"Anything I can do to help?"

You bit your lip, your mind flooded with a whole array of thoughts that you knew you shouldn't be having about your boss. He didn't know he was the reason you were so distracted, desperate to feel his lips on yours, on your body and his hands on your skin, his fingers inside you. Fuck. You needed to get it together, for goodness' sake. You quickly glanced back towards the road.

"Ah, no. I'm okay, sir. I'll sort myself out." You murmured, missing the way his knuckles whitened under the pressure of his grip on the wheel.

"Don't hesitate to come to me if you need anything."

You tried not to think of what you wanted him to do to you, instead humming in response.

"Thank you, sir."

You needed to get out of this damn car as soon as possible.

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Immediately upon returning to the station you rushed off to find a vending machine so you could grab a bottle of water. As soon as you had your hands on the cold, plastic bottle you were gulping down the cool liquid, not realising just how flushed you felt.

"Whoa, slow down there, (L/n)!" You heard JJ's voice from behind you and you turned, pulling the bottle from your mouth wide-eyed. The blonde woman looked slightly alarmed. "Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I just forgot to bring water so I kinda got a bit dehydrated I think." You explain quickly. JJ frowned a little.

"You'd better be careful next time. And don't drink too quickly, you could accidentally choke."

You smiled sheepishly under her scolding and screwed the lid back on.

"Sorry, I'll drink slower."

JJ led you back to the office where you found the familiar sight of Spencer pouring over a map of the area. Pieces of string had been wrapped around pins indicating the last locations victims were seen and the scenes of their murders, no clear pattern in sight as there sometimes was. On one of the tables lay several empty paper coffee cups, a few rings of spilled coffee staining the surface top. He was speaking quietly to another member of the team, David Rossi, and Hotch; of whom stood beside the young Doctor with his arms folded across his chest, inevitably tightening the suit over his physique. You forced yourself to focus on the map.

Not long after your arrival you heard two sets of footsteps trudge into the room.

"No employees or frequent customers that are of note. We have nothing." Derek huffed as he made his way over to one of the chairs and slumped down into it. Emily joined you and JJ, her face appeared neutral but you could tell there was a hint of annoyance behind it. You heaved a deep sigh and felt eyes on you which made you instinctively seek out who it was, only to be startled when your eyes met deep brown ones, almost black in the artificial lighting. Hotch didn't look away, instead holding your gaze until you quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed.

"There has to be something that connects them all." Rossi said. Your eyes drifted across the map, narrowing a little. There had to be a mutual place that all these couples had been to in the final week leading up to their deaths. Somewhere that couples who enjoy sexual relations more than the average couple would go. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and quickly scrolled through your contacts until you found the one you were looking for. As you pressed dial you put the call on loudspeaker it merely rang once before there was an answer.

"Hello, you've reached the hotline for the simply fantabulous Penelope Garcia; how may I assist you?" A bubbly voice filtered through. All eyes were on the phone as you placed it on the table in front of you.

"Hiya, babe, I have a request for you. We're trying to find a link between the couples but so far nothing has cropped up. But I have a theory," you spoke, feeling a little awkward at what you were about to say. "Uhm, do you think you could try search for any strip clubs or even straight up sex clubs in the area? Easily accessible or possibly a more hidden club?"

You could feel his eyes on you again but you tried hard to stare at the phone. Garcia gasped from the other end of the line, but the sound of nails on a keyboard reassured you she was already on the case. Beside you, you felt Emily poke you and you lightly shoved her with your wide hip.

"Oh wow, I did not think I would be looking at this sort of thing today. But lucky you, I have a whole list of places! I-" there was clicking, followed by another gasp. "Oh my! That is certainly a homepage! You have no idea about the things I'm seeing right now, well, I mean I'll be sending these to you anyway but gosh! I'm going to do a thorough clean of my history once this case-"

"-Garcia, focus." Hotch said firmly and you heard a quick apology from the other end of the line. He moved to lean over the table, propping himself up with his hands as he took charge of the phone call. "We need security footage from these locations. Whatever you can give us, we'll take it."

More clacking of nails, you tried not to stare at your boss as he leered over your phone, forcing yourself to look away from his straining suit, the dangling tie, his large hands. Horrifically, you instead met eyes with the oldest of the group, Rossi, who had clearly caught you ogling Hotch from the glint in his experienced eyes and the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Shit. You could only hope no one else had witnessed your blatancy. Thankfully, Garcia's voice came through again.

"I'm sending over whatever footage I can find as well as the addresses to the establishments now."

You reached across the table, hyper aware of how close you were to Hotch as you took hold of your phone. He studied you carefully when you hurried backwards, swallowing thickly. You cleared your throat.

"Thanks, babe, you're a star." You said.

"Well of course, I'm your star." Garcia responded cheerily and the line went dead. Hotch straightened up and pulled his suit back into place, turning to address everyone.

"We need to review the footage and find out which location all the victims visited at some point within the last few weeks, then we can make a plan of action." He was stern as he spoke, hands in his pockets and his shoulders squared. There was a mutual noise of agreement from everyone and you all split into smaller groups around the monitors in the room. Hotch disappeared off to find the chief of police and you couldn't help but let your eyes follow him as he rushed out of the room, eyes transfixed on the tight fabric of his dress pants.

"Girl, you aren't even hiding it." You heard Derek say and you huffed, walking over to Spencer and sitting down next to him. He offered you an awkward smile and shuffled his chair to the side so you could get closer to the computer he was working on.

"Shut up, Derek." You muttered and he chuckled.

"I'm just saying, you should probably talk to him."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"Excuse me?"

Spencer cleared his throat.

"I agree, It's a bit obvious that he's interested in you too." He said softly and you huffed, shuffling your chair closer to the table and leaning towards the computer screen.

"Stop saying ridiculous things like that, both of you. We have work to do anyway."

Derek stepped back with his hands raised in surrender before retreating back to the computer he was situated at whilst Spencer simply watched you carefully, frowning a little.

It was dangerous for you to even dare think of such things. There were so many reasons why you couldn't let your mind go there. If not for the ethical reason due to his and your job statuses, then maybe because he was much older than you with a son. But also you'd seen photos of his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend and you certainly didn't look like his type. Not slender, not sleek like they were. You didn't think he was a shallow man but you'd also dealt with disappointment after disappointment with how others had treated you based on your appearance. You had to keep yourself safe, so your attraction for your boss would remain nothing more than a secret from him. You sighed softly as the young man beside you clicked on the first video footage from one of the private sex clubs. There was no more time to waste.

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The following few hours were downright miserable, viewing video, after video of footage from various clubs until you felt as though your eyes and your brain would melt out of your head. Finally, however, Emily made a noise of alarm, mouth full of cheap coffee, and alerted everyone to her computer. Swallowing the burning, bitter liquid, she retracted the footage a little and replayed it.

"Look, It's the Smiths! The first couple to be murdered. They came in to this very exclusive private sex club at the end of last month." She said hurriedly. In the slightly fuzzy camera quality indeed the couple waltzed into the lobby of the facility and approached the reception desk.

"Fast forward the feed." You heard Hotch say, causing goosebumps to bristle across your skin. You knew he had returned at some point but didn't expect him to stand right beside you. Someone made a call to Garcia and she confirmed with her database that it was indeed the couple. Further analysis of the footage from days afterwards showed that every single of the other couples had also been to this sex club too shortly before they were murdered. And yet they had no indication still of who was the murderer.

The day was drawing in at this point but as a final task before anyone would return to the hotel, Hotch sent out Morgan and Prentiss to the club to ask some questions, something that you couldn't help but chuckle at. The raven haired woman narrowed her eyes slightly at you.

"Laugh all you want but I'd be careful if I were you." She warned but you simply smirked.

"Don't have too much fun now, you two." You said cheerily, Morgan raised a brow at you and then the two were off begrudgingly. You felt JJ sidle up beside you.

"You know she will get you back." She murmured and you shrugged.

"She doesn't scare me."

"She scares me a little." Spencer said aloud, causing the two of you to turn your heads in his direction. He flushed, ducking his head slightly. "I- uh, well you know how she is."

"I wouldn't think you were intimidated by her, Spence, I mean you're the one who won the prank war with Morgan." JJ said, chuckling. A small smile tugged at his mouth.

"I wouldn't cross Emily, though."

You hummed and pushed up out of your chair.

"Well anyway, either of you want a hot drink?" You offered. JJ smiled.

"Oh no, thank you." As Spencer opened his mouth to respond she lifted a finger up at him. "Ah- you definitely don't need anymore coffee at this time of day."

A quiet giggle passed your lips and you turned to head to the kitchenette of the station.

"I'm not getting involved."

Walking out of the office you crossed the police department, avoiding any officers who still remained within the building, and came to a pause in the entryway of the kitchen, dipping away from the doorway out of sight. The two oldest members of the team were in a deep conversation, Hotch with his back to the door and Rossi facing the direction you were in. They spoke quietly, you knew you shouldn't listen in and yet you couldn't help it.

"Stop being absurd. What makes you think I'd even consider doing that?" Hotch hissed, his voice barely audible from where you were.

"Come on, Aaron, you can't keep this going forever. You know that." Rossi countered. There were more words said but were too quiet for you to decipher. That was until Hotch spoke a little louder again, sounding more frustrated.

"I am not currently wishing to be involved with anyone like that, Dave. I just can't."

In an instant you felt your heart in your throat, your eyes stinging.

Oh.

You felt stupid. Of course he wasn't interested in dating anyone. Even despite closely guarding your feelings for Hotch to be nothing further than a personal crush that he would never find out about it still hurt knowing you never had a chance to begin with.

Walking a few steps away from the kitchen, you made a point of entering the kitchen area, feigning surprise as your eyes landed on the two men in the room. Clearly, your entrance startled them, particularly him, who looked a little guilty before the slight expression glossed over with stern stoicism. Hotch glanced away, turning to Rossi.

"I'll see you at the hotel." He muttered and then he was brushing past you, his hand grazing your arm slightly and his scent consuming your senses. And then he was gone, all that remained was the slight coolness of his absence. You swallowed thickly but tried to mask your emotions from the seasoned agent still remaining.

"Coffee? There's some left still, maybe enough for one last cup." Rossi said softly. You smiled slightly as you approached him but shook your head.

"Ah no, thank you. I'm going to have tea. It's way too late for coffee, don't you think?"

The man hummed, watching you carefully. You suspected he had seen you earlier, that you'd heard the conversation but you didn't feel like talking about it.

"I hope you know that if you ever need someone to lend an ear that I'm always willing to listen."

Your hands faltered slightly during sorting out putting a tea bag in a clean mug. Your eyes flicked to the side at Rossi briefly.

"I know that."

"I know you heard what you think you heard but-"

"-Let's not- We aren't talking about this." You cut him off shakily, stopping yourself before you poured the hot water into the mug. "There's nothing to say about it."

You turned away from the kitchen counter to lean against it, rubbing your tired eyes with your palms. Rossi sighed quietly.

"You didn't catch the whole conversation." He tried after a moment. You scoffed.

"It wasn't for me to hear. I only did so by accident. I'm not going to read into it because the only people who were meant to hear what was discussed was you and-" Your throat felt tighter still, an unseen coil constricting you, just as the man you longed for constricted your heart and soul. You didn't say his name, couldn't. Mercifully, the man before you understood.

"I know."

You nodded. The mug of tea wasn't appealing anymore; the quiet promise of solitude in a hotel room called to you more than all else.

"I.... I think I need to call it a night. I don't feel well."

Rossi placed a hand on your upper arm and squeezed lightly.

"I'll inform the others and grab your stuff then I'll drive you to the hotel we're staying in," he fished out the keys to one of the SUVs and handed them to you, the metal clinking together. "Go, wait in the car for me." He said. The corners of your mouth tilted upwards in appreciation and you hurried out, eager to have even a moment to yourself.

The moment you pushed the doors of the building open and stepped outside you exhaled, grimacing slightly at the still, warm air of the night. You'd hoped it would have cooled down more, now that the sun had long since settled behind the horizon, but you felt stifled, the heat doing nothing to soothe the tightness in your throat and chest. Breathing shakily, you unlocked the car and climbed into the passenger seat, laying your head back against the head rest.

There was no reason for you to feel so upset about this. It wasn't as though you intended on ever approaching your boss about your ever growing feelings for him, you wouldn't dare do that. And yet you felt almost physically sick from heartbreak and the worst part was he didn't even know the pain you were in. Hell, you didn't even know where he was right now after he rushed out of the kitchen.

You knew the moment Rossi obviously had retrieved your belongings judging the way your phone had begun to vibrate from text notifications, no doubt from your coworkers. You'd answer them when you made it to the hotel, you decided. A few minutes later you spotted the older man exit the station and approach the car you were in, your bag and coat in hand. The sight made you smile even the tiniest bit, something that he noticed. You felt the car jolt a little as he opened the trunk so he could put your belongings down and jolt again when he slammed it lightly. A second later he was climbing in on the driver's side where you held out the car keys to him.

"Thanks." He took the keys and inserted them into the ignition, the engine roaring to life and you slipped your seatbelt on. Rossi glanced at you. "Let's get you to the hotel. Best thing about this is if there aren't enough rooms for one each you can have first pick on if you want the single or not." He said as you pulled out the station parking lot. You scoffed.

"Oh you know I'm absolutely taking the single this time." You retorted. In any other scenario you would have risked sharing a room, risk being paired with him. Now the thought made you want to cry. Your little smile faded and you turned your head to the window, resting on the cool glass. Sensing you were finished talking, Rossi didn't say anything else for the remainder of the drive.

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A little groan escaped your lips when you collapsed backwards on the single bed in your hotel room, exhaustion overrunning your very being from the long day. For a moment you simply lay there silently, staring at the dulled white ceiling whilst your mind raced. You knew this wasn't ideal, you couldn't let yourself be distracted from the case.

Huffing, you remembered that you needed to respond to messages to let the others know you would be alright by the morning. After pulling your phone out of your pocket, the screen lit up and your eyes flicked across the notifications on the lock screen. Lots of messages from your worried coworkers. You unlocked the phone and set about answering them one-by-one. JJ and Emily offered to stop by your hotel room to check in on you, not knowing you'd been feeling unwell up until this point, but you reassured them you would be okay.

Just as you finished your nightly routine and pulled the covers back, there was a knock on your door. Your brows furrowed slightly. Who would be knocking at this time? Sighing, you approached the door and leaned close to the peephole, expecting to see one of the ladies or maybe even Rossi.

Standing tensely with his shoulders squared was Aaron Hotchner. A quiet gasp escaped you and you jolted backwards from the door. What the fuck was he doing here?! With shaky hands, you pulled the door open and slightly covered yourself with it, hyper aware of your clothing situation. Hotch perked up and stared down at you.

"Rossi informed me that you weren't feeling well and had to retire early." He murmured gently, his face stern. You swallowed and silently invited him into your room by stepping back, pulling the door with you. He cautiously walked into your hotel room and you closed the door behind him, wrapping your arms around yourself in a feeble attempt to cover your body up. Why, oh why did you have to wear shorts that barely covered your ass and an old tee that wasn't as baggy anymore from being washed one too many times?

You cleared your throat and avoided looking in Hotch's direction.

"He's right. But I'm sure I'll feel better by tomorrow though."

You offered a little smile, eyes flicking to his face and realised he was staring. Except he wasn't staring at your face, no, his eyes were focused lower down at your chest. Christ. You quickly looked away again before he realised you'd caught him out and he hummed, the sound making you clench.

"What's wrong?"

Oh no. You couldn't answer that. Your eyes met his and you opened your mouth, hesitating with no response to give.

"I.... Just felt sick, that's all. I'll be okay though."

You never were good at hiding how you were really feeling, the deepening frown on the man's face before you merely evident of this.

"Are you certain? You can tell me anything, you know that." He said softly as he stepped closer to you. You nodded and tried smiling again at him.

"I know, sir. I promise I'm alright though." You tightened your arms around yourself until your flesh dipped under the pressure of your fingertips. Hotch's eyes trailed over you from head to toe, clearly unsatisfied with your reluctance to tell him the truth, but didn't push the matter further. You inhaled as he stepped closer still, his scent once more overwhelming you. His fingers flexed at his side as though he was conflicted and you wished he would reach out and touch you. Eventually, he sighed quietly and retreated a step.

"Alright. But I will be keeping an eye on you now."

Not good. You nodded though, then yawned and your cheeks flushed with warmth. Despite the tension, a small smile tugged at Hotch's mouth.

"You should get some rest." He said. You chuckled.

"Yeah, you as well though. I know what you're like."

He raised a brow at you.

"Really now?"

Your eyes widened and you stuttered.

"W-well I'm just saying, you do leave the office last, you're up earlier than everyone else too-" you cut yourself off, not wanting to dig your hole any deeper. You dared a quick glance his way and he was still slightly smirking.

"Get some rest, your boss is going to be up early again tomorrow to call everyone in."

A little chuckle escaped you and you followed Hotch to the door, grabbing the door as he opened it and hiding behind it again as you watched him make his way out into the corridor. He turned back to you and gazed down at you again.

"Good night, (L/n)." He murmured. Your eyes met and you gripped onto the door.

"Good night, sir."

He shifted, as though debating something in his head, then he turned and stalked down the corridor. You didn't close your door until he disappeared from sight. When you returned to your bed you collapsed down onto it whilst your mind raced. That night your dreams were filled with forbidden touches and kisses from the man you loved.

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And that's part one for now pls lemme know what you think and if anyone wants to be tagged in future works! Thank you for reading 💖💖

#a writes #a's writing #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x plus size reader #plus size reader #plus size!reader

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kaylopolis · 11 months ago

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Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Thirteen

Alastor x F!Reader, Alias: Thestral

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power…

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

(Let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List!)

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Author note: Dear Hoteliers,

Lots of historical stuff happening, but don't worry, I have little endnotes explaining each with links to more information at the end of the chapter!

Spoiler Warning: Be careful if you flip between the end to read the notes as you read the chapter. There is a major spoiler at the end of the chapter you might accidentally read!

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Thirteen - The Truth

Content Warning: Spoilers after the end of the chapter; mentions of physical and psychological abuse, panic attack (let me know if I missed any!) MINORS DNI!!!!!

(107 years ago, Heaven)

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Enter,” the Seraphim’s voice called from behind the wood.

Your head held high, your shoulders squared, you entered your Father’s office. The sword strapped to your side knocked against your hip as you walked. Although you wore your casual blue robes and not your metal armor, the sword never left your side. You tucked your golden wings in, your blonde hair cut short to frame your face, the wisps of your bangs barely brushing your collarbones.

Stopping before Father’s desk, you nodded to the others in the room in greeting: Adam, the Seraphim, and a few of Father’s personal guards who filed out of the room after you entered.

“Father,” you stated, waiting for him to begin.

From a worldwide flood to raining frogs in Egypt, a meeting in this office always meant serious business. After all, out of all your siblings, you were the most trustworthy. “Father’s Golden Girl,” they all called you - and not just because of your looks. You were his warrior, his right-hand man, his perpetrator of action. You carried out God’s will.

“You are aware of the current events of Earth,” a statement, not a question.

It was January 1917. The mortals were in the middle of a war to end all wars. Who didn’t know?

“Just yesterday, our Ishim delegates intercepted a telegram from Arthur Zimmerman to the Mexican Government proposing an alliance between Germany and Mexico to invade the United States.*” Sera slid a piece of paper across the desk. You glanced at it but didn’t give it much thought.

The Ishim were low-level Angels, more human than divinity, really. They carried out more menial endeavors. Father dispatched a hundred to Earth a year before the war broke out. Why? You weren’t sure, but you were about to find out.

“This war is the mortal’s problem, is it not?” You asked.

Adam caught your eye from the corner of the room he stood in, his usual cockiness replaced with… you sniffed. Guilt?

“Not anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“We believe this telegram was sent by Eve.”

You took a step back, clenching your jaw shut to prevent it from falling open. Instinctively, your hand found the hilt of your sword. “She escaped?” You looked at Adam, but he didn’t look back, his gaze downcast as a wave of emotions weighed down his shoulders.

“Some years ago, yes,” Sera answered.

But why didn’t they… Oh, they couldn’t have sent you right away. No one knew she had escaped, and they weren’t about to let it get out that the evil Evelyn of Eden had bested Heaven’s topmost security prison. Technically, it was the only one Heaven had, and it only had one prisoner, but still. Especially after the whole Lucifer and Lilith incident. Rumor had it they were in love.

You eye the telegram on the desk. “What do you need from me?”

Wouldn’t be the first time you hunted down a human. Cain went into hiding after he murdered Abel. You found him not long after - even with the magic he used to conceal himself from you.

“Find Evelyn and bring her back.”

You nodded, taking the telegram. It smelled of roses, how fitting for the Second Lady of Eden.

“Mikaela,” Father called after you. You paused. “Do not disappoint me.”

You nodded before shutting the door behind you.

Time to go to work.

____________________________________________

(1917, Russia)

This tux was killing you. It was itchy, it was hot, and more importantly, it was suffocating. You didn't have much time to find a suit that fit, so you grabbed whatever the tailor had. Unfortunately for you, the collar was way too tight, and it constantly rubbed against the injury on your neck.

The music echoed off the ridiculously decorated walls of the Palace. Gosh, you did not enjoy the pianoforte. It was like the instrument was screaming every time one of the strings was plucked.

Just find her and get out. You've been chasing her nearly a year and this was as close as you had gotten to capturing her. Evelyn was slippery...

You pushed through the crowd, making your way around the dancefloor.

"Шампанское, сэр. Champagne, sir?" A servant thrusted a tray in front of your face. You turned up your nose and pushed onwards.

Ugh, alcohol, you've never touched the stuff.

Sniffing, you could smell the roses. The room was filled with the scent of them, the aroma so pungent you could reach out and touch it. So, she was here, but where exactly?

Making your way to the front of the room, you stopped when you finally spotted her. "What is she doing?" You asked yourself.

Evelyn, her brown hair done up in a mass of stacked curls atop her head, was whispering in the ear of the Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich. The feather sticking out of her hair wiggled as she laughed.

What is the Second Woman doing playing fairytale at a royal Russian Ball? She even had the dress to go along with it all.

Whatever, all you had to do was grab her and get out.

You pulled your sword from the Void and took a step forward - wait, no. You couldn't work like this. Ripping off the bowtie, you undid the top two buttons, freeing your neck. You rubbed at the black and blue bruises, the action soothing but also painful.

Okay, let's do this.

"У него есть меч! Он собирается попытаться убить царя! He's got a sword! He's going to try and kill the Tsar!" A woman screamed.

Oh, crap. Last time you were down here, everyone carried a sword. Now, nearly two thousand years later, they don't seem to like it so much... Oops.

The room plunged into chaos.

Briefly, you made eye contact with Evelyn. Her brown eyes flashed with confusion before they changed to recognition and then acknowledgment - she recognized you and knew why you were there. Evelyn smiled, mouthing the words, "Hello, Mikaela," before she disappeared into the crowd.

You tried to follow, but you were tackled by a guard. The sword went flying out of your hand as you hit the ground, a bear of a man sitting on top of you.

Great... You were hoping this was going to be an easy in-and-out type of mission...

Pushing the man easily off of you and collecting your sword. Shoving it back into the Void, you huffed, blowing the hair out of your face. You had cut it so short that the seamstress laughed when you walked into the boutique shopping for a dress. She thought you were a man. You’d be mad but, it wasn’t the first time humanity has made that mistake.

Jesus' Disciples named you "Michael" instead of "Mikaela." Ever since then, humanity thought you were a man. It was kind of insulting when you read the first draft and a little sexist...

Alright, let's get out of here and see if we can track her down.

A wall of guards stepped into your path before you could make much progress.

You groaned. It was going to be a long night...

____________________________________________

(1923, Chicago)

“Another?” The bartender asked. You nodded and watched as she poured you a glass of soda water and lemon. Taking a long sip, letting the bubbles dance across your tongue, you went back to twirling your glass.

“You sure you don’t want anything else to drink? Any alcohol?” She asked.

You shook your head. “Not one for the taste, I’m afraid.”

She finally let you be, busying herself with dirty glasses.

You were growing restless on the barstool, the smoke from the cigarettes giving you a headache. Drinking in public for women was scandalous in this day and age - even though you technically weren’t drinking, you were a woman alone at a bar - and you had caught your fair share of male attention. You denied and denied and denied until the men finally got the message.

But this wasn’t just any old bar, and you were hoping that, eventually, word of your presence here would attract a different kind of attention.

The aroma of roses hit you before her voice did.

“This seat taken?”

Right on schedule.

“Not at all, Evelyn,” you motioned to the stool. “Please.”

The brunette settled in next to you, her iconic long hair chopped and curled around her face. Other than that, she looked exactly the same as you left her, save for the wardrobe change - a string of pearls and a grey silk dress that left her ankles exposed. She was always a fashion rebel, pushing the iconic clothing of the decades to the point of scandal. Speaking of, you tried hard not to look at her cleavage - it would take another few decades before that became appropriate in public.

“Please, call me Eve. To what do I owe the honor?” She sang as the bar girl poured her a gin and tonic.

“Come back,” you ordered.

She huffed, “Oh, come on. This is the first proper conversation you and I have ever had, don’t bore me with the self-righteous bullshit propaganda your father feeds you.”

You've been chasing her for six years now. Every time you met, it was all action before she slipped away. How she managed to disappear every time, you didn't know.

She stirred the ice around in her glass before gulping down the entire drink. “You and I both know I am not going back willingly.”

You had to give her the option.

“You’re going back either way.”

“I want you to meet someone,” she smiled, changing the subject. “Al!” Eve waived to a rather portly man at the back of the establishment. The mortal was dressed to the nines in a blue pinstriped suit and accompanying fedora.

“Hey, dollface,” the gentleman kissed Eve on the cheek before taking his hat off and tipping it in greeting. “Pleased'ta meet’ya miss, Al Capone at your service."

Ugh.

You stood, grabbing Eve’s upper arm as you attempted to lug her towards the main entrance. The motion sent a sharp pain through your bruised shoulder. “Let’s go,” you winced.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Eve giggled. The sclera of her eyes flashed black before she turned back to the bar and screamed. “Al! She’s with the fuzz!”

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The echoes of guns loading rang out across the bar.

Fucking Mafia.

You didn’t drop Eve’s arm.

“We can do this the easy way, toots, or the hard way,” Al said, holding a pistol to your face. Despite being no taller than you, he did his best to look threatening.

“Between you and me,” Eve leaned in and whispered. “I’m pretty sure the fat one’s got syphilis.” She motioned to Capone.

Why, Eve? Why was that important right now?

She giggled before pulling out an extremely small pistol from her cleavage. The Angel pointed it at your head. You held your hands up as if feigning surrender. “That won’t kill me, Eve.”

“I know,” she laughed, smiling wildly.

Was this fun for her?

“But it'll kill them,” she motioned to a random man before turning and shooting him straight in the face.

The bar plunged into chaos as you ducked for cover. Rolling your eyes, you mumbled beneath your breath, “The hard way it is.”

____________________________________________

(1937 Lae, New Guinea)

You rolled open the hangar doors. It was late, well past midnight. An oil lantern hung from a mobile post, illuminating the opened engine of a two-seater plane.

Ensuring your sword was strapped to your side, you trudged through the hangar doors, cautiously approaching the single soul inside. As per usual, the room smelled of roses.

You were but one step in the door when Eve called out, “Mikaela!” Her head popped out from behind the engine. “Good to see you! Been a while, hasn’t it? Chicago, good times.” She dove back inside the engine, half her body sticking out of the contraption. A blue tarp had been laid at her feet, to capture oil as she worked, you assumed.

“You shot up a bar, nearly set it on fire, and almost burned the city to the ground - again… I wouldn’t exactly call that fun.” Keeping your distance, you circled around to the front of the plane. You had better chances of catching the plague than predicting her next move. Eve was wildly unpredictable.

“Oh, my friend,” her sclera flashed black as she smiled over her shoulder. “Chaos is always fun.”

“Why are you doing this, Eve?” And more importantly, what was she doing?

“Can’t a girl love power and chaos with absolutely no motive?” She played dumb, her voice echoing from within the metal compartment.

You crossed your arms, your silence communicating that she had asked a dumb question.

“I’m sick and tired of Heaven, of them always telling me who I am and what to do.” She shrugged, ripping out a piece of the engine. “I’m taking it back.”

“Stop messing around with the airplane, Eve.” You felt like you were scolding a child.

She paused, a metal component in her hand, oil coating her fingers, as she backed out of the engine. Eve waived the metal part around as she spoke. “Aren’t you sick of being their puppet? Of… Of being a part of their machine? Of being told to jump and asking how high?” Grabbing a brown saddle bag, she stuffed the components inside, the tarp crunching beneath her feet.

Oh good, she was sabotaging the plane. Great. You didn’t know why she did half the things she did, but sabotaging Amelia Earhart’s plane? Just... Why? What did that accomplish?

“I’m an Archangel - a soldier - and soldiers follow orders,” you responded, watching Eve clean the oil off her hands.

“And if they don’t?” She raised an eyebrow, motioning to your wrist.

As if on instinct, you tugged on your sleeves to hide the bruises.

“Adam was a dick,” she continued, “but he never touched me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you felt the blood drain from your face.

She sighed as she got to her feet. You watched the conflict play out on her face. Did she push the topic? Did she change it completely?

"Do you know how they caught me the first time?” she smiled.

“Adam.” You answered, your eyes following her every move. She was planning to bolt. You could feel it. She wouldn't get away this time.

“They used him as bait,” she grabbed her satchel and threw the loop over her head. “And trapped me in a Pentagram.” Eve kicked the edge of the blue tarp beneath your feet to reveal the edge of a chalk line.

She was smart; she kept you distracted and annoyed just enough to keep your eyes off the floor to the lightly drawn star and circle hidden beneath your feet.

Here's the thing about being a General. You knew how to organize armies, how to train soldiers to fight, how to strategize on a battlefield. You were not a covert spy trained to track down rogue Angels. Sure, you went after Cain, but he was sloppy. Despite going to the Goetia and bargaining his soul for a bit of magic to hide him from you, he left a trail for you to follow. All you had to do was hunt down the Goetia he talked to, and, presto, you had a lead.

Eve wasn't really trying to hide. If she was, she'd have found a way to hide the potency of her power: roses, her magic smelled like roses. You could scent it miles away. The downside to chasing Eve was that she was unpredictable. Her moves didn't make any sense or have any logic to them. She was scattered with her actions. Map it out on a battlefield, and it would seem like random nonsense. There was logic to war but not to Eve. Which made it hard to capture her.

Like trying to trap lightning in a bottle.

“Tootle-loo, Mikaela,” Eve sang. The Angel skipped to the hangar doorway, stopping before she closed it. Something flashed in her eyes. Sadness? Pity? Worry? “Don’t be a stranger,” she smiled softly, and then she slammed the door shut.

____________________________________________

(1945, Germany)

The sirens were deafening as you rounded corner after corner, your fire illuminating the tunnels as you ran.

“Come on, come on,” you huffed, out of breath. You’ve been sprinting through battlefields all night long to make it here before the Russian army, but you were cutting it dangerously close.

BANG! The echoes of a gunshot had your ears ringing as you emerged into a well-lit bunker. A dead body lay at Eve’s feet, scarlet pooling beneath it. Another - a woman - sat slumped at a table in a pile of vomit.

Gross.

“Oh, hey!” She lit up, her brunette curls bobbing.

You sidestepped the blood, trying to catch your breath, “Eve, this is getting old.” You were quickly finding out the Angel had a proclivity for violence - specifically guns. What was with her and modern weaponry?

She did a double take, not of the man moaning on the ground, but of your face. You ignored her questioning look, choosing to bend over and suck down gulps of air. It wasn’t that the running took a lot out of you. By golly, you could run for days before getting tired, go weeks without food, go months without water, but broken ribs always made it hard to breathe.

Her happy demeanor turned down a few notches as she holstered the gun. “Hey,” she put a hand on your back in comfort.

You shoved her off.

You did not need her pity.

Eve blinked. “Why don’t we head up top and get some fresh air?”

The Russians were expecting to arrive at any minute, they’d most likely bomb the crap out of this place and bury the two of you alive. You nodded, wincing as you stood.

Eve led you out of a secret tunnel hidden behind boxes of supplies. You followed behind her, summoning your sword as support as you limped to the surface. Ugh, your ankle was so swollen.

Eve pushed open a wooden door, leading you into the morning sunlight. The two of you emerged at the edge of a small lake. The sun was rising over the water, the ruins of Berlin surrounding the park.

Eve sat at the edge of the water, watching the sun rise as armies marched and chanted toward the Capitol behind you. The dichotomy was iconic.

You looked between her and the sword and made a silent decision.

Slipping your sword back into the Void, you joined Eve in the grass - wincing as you sat.

“Germany wasn’t my doing. I just wanted to make that very clear,” she laughed awkwardly. “I’m only here because I wanted to end the bastard myself…” Her voice trailed off, the tension becoming… weird.

You could feel her staring at your split lip and black eye.

“Why?” You asked.

She huffed, turning towards the sun, bathing in its morning warmth, “Because fuck heaven and fuck their design.”

“People are dying because of you, Eve.” You gritted.

“So?” She scoffed. “People are always going to die, more will be made. Either they go to Heaven, or they go to Hell. There’s life after this, so not like I’m robbing them of anything. Besides, they’re nothing but puppets fulfilling some predetermined mapped-out plan Daddy designed. Regardless of their free will, they're powerless to fate. They're just machine parts, Mikaela. Just like you and I were designed to be.”

She huffed. “I mean, look at me. I was literally created from Adam’s rib - designed to be the perfect little wife. That’s all I am. That’s all Dad made me to be. I’m changing that!”

“By messing with Father’s design?”

She nods.

“And you do this how?” You raised an eyebrow in confusion, choosing to humor her behavior.

“The Book of Knowledge.”

You laughed, “The book Lucifer stole and then gave you?”

She nodded.

“Why not use it to do good?”

“Because who the fuck cares if I do good? I mean, if I save a few hundred lives or help further a society what does that really accomplish? I’m only further giving in to God’s will. He wants them to succeed, to become better. It’s all a game, Mikaela, don’t you see that? I mean look at this!” She gestured to all of Berlin. “What kind of fucked up, power-hungry arsehole allows this to happen!? Just so humans can rise from the darkest moments of history, to learn and become better than they were before. All this to teach them a lesson!? I mean… Wow.”

You shut your mouth. She had a point. This was messed up.

The two of you sat for a long while, the orchestra of war playing in the background.

Eve’s demeanor changes. “I saw the bruises in Russia.” Her words were sharp.

Your blood ran cold.

“At first, I thought they were just from training, but then why would a soldier have bruises around their throat from training?”

Please don’t go there, Eve. Her rants about Father you could handle, not this. You didn’t deal with personal emotions, you bottled them up and shoved them deep down and quietly forgot about them - like a good soldier.

“They talk, the guards in the prison. I’ve heard the rumors of Dad’s Golden Girl and her mysterious injuries, of the screams behind closed doors. So, in Chicago, I looked again. You had bruises on your shoulder.”

You shot her a questioning glance.

“When you grabbed me part of your dress slipped just a bit… Mikaela, they looked like hand prints.”

You turned away from her, pulling in your knees and hugging yourself.

“So in New Guinea, I tested my theory. Your reaction told me everything.”

Were you that easy to read?

Eve turned to you then, clearly eyeing the bruises on your face. “He beats you, doesn’t he?”

You didn’t answer.

“I don’t know how you do it. To obey his every command for thousands of years… You, out of all of us, have a right to be pissed.”

“It’s my job,” you gritted, your hands were shaking, all emotion absent from your voice. “Besides, my failures are my own fault.”

“What?” Eve jumped to her feet. “How could you say that!? You don’t ask to be beaten. You don’t ask to have your bones broken and your face bloodied!?”

“My failures are my own fault,” Your entire body was shaking now, your voice cracking.

“Mikaela…” Eve planted herself on the grass next to you. Bombs exploded off in the distance, cheering echoing off the buildings. The Russians have arrived.

“My fault.” You whispered, the words imprinted on your brain like ink on paper. “My fault. My fault. My…”

Eve brought you into a bear hug, holding you as tight as she could as the panic attack overcame you. “It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”

You sobbed.

"Listen to me - no one ever deserves to be abused, and it is never your fault. Abuse is a deliberate, cruel choice made by the abuser, and it is entirely on them. You are a strong, beautiful woman deserving of respect and love. Don't ever let anyone make you feel otherwise."

Eve turned you to face her. “Say it, Mikaela. It. Is. Not. Your. Fault.” Her words were sharp and to the point, trying to jam the message into your mind. To cut out the toxic and replace it with the new.

“It is…” You choked. “It is not my fault.” You cried.

“Louder!” She demanded.

“It is not my fault,” you repeated, your voice shaky.

“Louder!”

“It is not my fault!” You screamed.

“It is not your fault!” She echoed.

And you hugged her back.

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

“You turned against Heaven and joined, Eve?” Alastor asked. He’s been eerily silent the entire time.

You smiled, your yellow irises glinting mischievously. “I joined, Eve.”

The demon summoned his own chair and settled in next to you. Together, you stared off at the silhouette of Pentagram City, its lights shining like beacons into the red sky.

“We spent the next thirty-something years traveling. London, Korea, Russia - we went everywhere, sowing seeds of chaos in our wake. She started me on the little stuff, and I worked my way up from there. From swearing and alcohol to stealing and, eventually, murder. Eve was like a gateway drug; just once wasn’t enough to satisfy you, but it was enough to get you hooked. And, somewhere in that time, Eve became my friend.”

You sighed, your eyes swimming in memories. “But, like any drug, at some point in time, it isn’t enough anymore. You need more to keep going, to stay satisfied…”

____________________________________________

(1974, London)

DING!

“Order up!” The chef behind the counter yelled.

SLURP! You found the bottom of your milkshake. “Fuck,” you cried. “I’m out.”

The two of you, after an extremely long plane ride from America, stopped at a lunch counter for a quick snack.

The time in between master plans was always your favorite but also your most hated. It meant a time of scheming, of plotting something new and exciting, but it was also a time when Eve tended to channel her energy into other matters. Most notably sex, drugs, and music. It's like she needed an outlet for her restless energy.

You put your newspaper down, the title reading "Nixon Resigns!" and turned to Eve. The brunette wasn’t paying attention, her mind on the cute human boy sitting at the end of the counter.

You analyzed her as she daydreamed. The itch was there again, the temptation to bring up what you’ve been keeping silent on for so long.

Eve was fine with toying about on Earth. You didn’t blame her; she’d been locked up for so long, and all she wanted to do was live and do as she pleased, but frankly, you were growing bored. Sure fucking around with the humans was entertaining, but the fact of the matter was you accomplished nothing from it.

Eve believed she was messing with Dad’s grand creation, but if you paid attention, Heaven found a way to fix everything she undid. After all of her meddling, things always returned to normal: war ended, economies stabilized, rulers were replaced, and laws were rewritten. Anything Eve ever did was fixed. And that was starting to bother you.

You wanted bigger. You wanted more. You wanted permanent. And you had an idea to make it happen.

“Eve,” you lightly tapped her hand. Dreamily, she turned to you.

“Oh, you’re done already?” She pouted.

“Yeah… Listen,” you cleared your throat, preparing your speech. “I want to propose a field trip. Maybe a change in scenery?”

Eve blinked. “A change in scenery? What’s wrong with the scenery here?” She motioned to the cute British boy, her voice a little too loud for comfort.

“Nothing! Nothing! I just…” You hesitated. You needed a hook, a reason to get Eve interested.

The truth was, you tried broaching this topic before, but she always blew it off. Eve was content. You were not. She didn’t want a change in the status quo - you were growing bored of the status quo.

So, this time, you were going to baby-step her into your plan - turn her opinion around. Perhaps, help her see the fun she could have by finally doing something your way for once.

“There’s this festival I’ve always wanted to go to,” you suggest. “Lot’s of cute boys. There will be music, dancing, drinking… It’ll be a good time!”

“A festival,” she lit up. “Sounds fun!”

“Cool. Cool… It’s in Wrath.”

She choked, “What!?”

“I know, it’s in Hell, but can we just check it out? If you hate it, we can leave right away. I just… I’ve never been. I thought maybe it would be a new adventure for us?” You shrug.

Eve thinks a moment.

“Plus, we’d be breaking so many rules. Angels aren’t allowed in Hell, after all…”

“Done.” She stands. “Let’s go!” Eve grabs your arm and pulls you out of the restaurant.

In a side alley, you summon a portal and are whisked away into what you would look back on and consider to be the beginning of the end.

____________________________________________

(7 years ago, Pride Ring, Hell)

"I'll be there momentarily, Al," Lilith hung up the phone as you entered the room. "Mikaela, Eve," she greeted.

You step into the office and close the door behind you. “Lilith,” you nod to her in greeting.

Your plan worked. Eve and you spent the better part of nearly fifty years partying your way through the Rings of Hell. It started in Wrath with the Harvest Moon Festival - Eve enjoyed the Pain Games far more than you expected - and resulted in a series of debauchery moving up from there.

You hadn't really spent time in Pride - you've had enough of mortals and their petty problems for a good while. However, your next plan - the ultimate plan - required you to be here.

Nearly 50 fucking years... It took you that long to convince Eve of your plan... and to make it seem like it was her idea. You had discovered that, yes, Eve was a schemer, but her plans were always limited in their size. You were thinking bigger.

This was your third meeting with Lilith and if everything went to plan, it would be your last.

The Queen of Hell stood next to the window, the view overlooking Pentagram City. She didn't want to meet at her home - understandable - which was tucked away in a pocket dimension. So, you met here, at her... office? I guess if you want to call it that, sure. It was an office in the City.

Even took a seat on the desk, her fingers rummaging through everything and anything set before her. "Awww," she grabbed a photo. "The three of you are so cute!"

You tried not to groan. "Eve..."

"Sorry," she dropped the frame, pulling her hands into her lap like a scolded child. The Second Woman turned on her charm before addressing existence's First. "Are we ready?"

Lilith continued to stare out the window, her eyes swimming with unspoken thoughts. Her horns looked rather shiny today, her purple dress perfectly pressed - she dressed for the occasion. The woman smoothed her dress, a nervous habit of hers. The Queen turned to you, her plum eyeshadow sparkling in the light. "Yes."

In a flash, you had Eve pinned to the floor, your hands wrapped around her throat.

Confusion swam in her eyes as you squeezed. "Mikaela?" She choked out.

Lilith leaned over. Making eye contact, the First Woman commanded, "Do not move. Do not fight back."

And Eve froze.

The power of Lilith's voice... It's what makes her singing abilities so powerful; it's how she convinces the masses and rules over Hell so easily.

"I'm sorry, Eve, but I can't have you holding me back any longer."

Confusion turned to fear as you channeled your fire into your hands and began to burn - Holy Fire. You've killed members of the Angelic kind before - mostly lower-level Angels prone to corruption, like the Ishim. It was easy to erase lesser beings, and surprisingly, it was easier to take down Eve than you originally thought. Especially considering she never thought you turning against her was a possibility.

Eve screamed as she died, and when her body was nearly ash, you were left with not a soul before you but the physical embodiment of power: a book. not just any book, but the book. It was ethereal and partially incorporeal as you collected it in your hands.

"Having second thoughts?" Lilith asked.

"No," you immediately responded. "No, just... I've been thinking about this for a long time. Longer than when I originally approached you and proposed the idea. Now it's finally here... It doesn't feel real."

(In hindsight, this wasn't just one of the hardest decisions you had ever made but a defining moment that had left a mark on your very being. If you were willing to kill one of the most important people in your life, what else wouldn't you do?

So, no, dear reader, you did not tell Alastor how much this killed you. You did not tell Alastor how much you cried. You did not tell him the real reason why you needed music to sleep at night was not because the screaming disturbed you but because when you fell asleep, those screams morphed into that of Eve's.

There would be a day, however, when you told the Radio Demon how much this hurt, and he would see you cry and completely fall apart. A day when you would broach this topic and eventually heal this ugly part of you.

But - as we all learned from the Full Moon episode - years of trauma does not get resolved in one conversation.

Alastor, however, could see it in your eyes. You didn't need to tell him. He may not have ever killed Vox, but there was something there, something that happened with which he could relate to what you were feeling right now as you told him your story.

And you were thankful for it, because he gave you a look which said you did not have to go there right now - he understood.)

Hesitantly, you brought the golden, glowing book to your chest and felt the power fuse with your being.

Printed text exploded across your skin as the magic accepted its new host. The energy flooding your veins, the high unlike anything ever before.

Fuck, is this how Eve felt all the time? No wonder she was always so restless with energy.

"Okay," you turned your back on Lilith and unbuttoned your shirt. You would NOT let yourself revel in how good this felt. You would NOT let yourself drown in the ecstasy of power.

Pulling ink and a quill from the void, you stood there as Lilith etched a rune across your back. When she had finished, the text across your skin was pulled towards the rune and locked beneath the seal.

You breathed deeply, feeling the weight of the power lift from your shoulders, "It worked."

It had to be contained until the time was right. You couldn't have anyone sensing what you carried. The potency of power is how you managed to track Eve down on Earth - it made her a target. Plus, you didn't know what that kind of power would do to your head - it made Eve scatterbrained and impulsive. Constantly chasing the high. You needed clarity to accomplish what you and Lilith had planned.

Power is a dangerous thing. You saw what it did to God, and no part of you ever wanted to have any similarities with that man. So, long ago, when you made the ultimate decision to take the power from Eve, you decided it needed to be locked away as well.

"This is written in Leviathan," Lilith observed. "Didn't Dad -?"

"Yes," you cut her off.

It was before the dawn of man, during Dad's experimental age. The monsters were violent and could not be controlled. He ordered you to corral them into a pocket dimension: Purgatory. You raised and led an army against them, and still, it had taken you years to subdue and capture them all. Your reward? Father pushed you in behind them and locked the door.

"Find a way out," he ordered - punishment for disappointing him. How had you disappointed him, you ask? You took too long.

"I have some... baggage to take care of before I leave." She began, noting the pile of ash on her carpet. "Your contact in Pride is no longer an option."

Fuck. You'd put considerable effort into vetting the Overlord Lilith had pointed you towards - Husk. Now, you were going to have to start over with someone else.

You'd later learn Husk fell from power, losing it in a game of cards to Alastor, of all people. The demon had become a thorn in your side long before you ran into him at the Hotel.

"Whom do you suggest?" You rebuttoned your shirt.

"Rosie, she's a wonderful woman. She'll be good to you, and I trust her."

You had no choice but to take her word for it. Question her now, on the eve of the beginning, especially when you sensed hesitation within her, might just tip her over the edge. She was leaving her husband and child behind, after all.

You held out your hand. "Shall we?"

Lilith considered your offer for a moment. Although she agreed to help you double-cross Eve, you never finalized the contract. You agreed not to, pending how killing the brunette played out, but Lilith came to play.

Your heart held no sympathy for the Queen. She was about to lose everything, but it was temporary. Lilith would be returning home to a husband and a child - to a family. You? You had no home, no family anymore. Lilith could handle a few years away.

Eventually, the demon shook your hand. The room exploded in blues and purples, marking the contract you two just made.

You smirked, "I guess it's time for my grand entrance." You made for the door. "You'll be fine?"

Lilith sighed, "If anyone knows how to handle Adam, it's me."

Right...

"Goodbye, Lilith."

She stopped you, her fingers wrapped around your arm rather tightly. "No harm comes to her." The purple in Lilith's eyes flashed.

She was talking about Charlie. Her daughter was part of the deal: no harm comes to her or her family.

"Of course..."

She let you go. "To power and chaos."

"To power and chaos," you responded as the door shut behind you.

You nearly landed on Rosie a few hours later...

____________________________________________

(Present Day, The Nothing, Pride Ring, Hell)

Alastor leaned forward in his chair, his elbow on his knees, his chin cupped in his hands. His eyes bore into you with every word of your story. The demon listened intently, paying attention to every detail, every flicker of emotion on your face.

Was he expecting you to lie? Was he expecting deceit? You had offered up nothing but the truth - for once. You told Alastor the entire story.

“You killed Eve.”

“I did.”

“For power?”

“Yes.”

Alastor’s eyes finally leave yours, his gaze wandering to the City before you.

“I know why you’re at the Hotel, Alastor.”

That caught his attention. Surprise fills his face as he raises an eyebrow at you, ears perked at attention.

“Oh?” He purrs.

“I know about the deal with Lillith, but it’s more than that. You’re looking for Roo.*” You cross your arms in front of your chest, a sly smile worming its way into your crooked grin. Finally, you could let the demonic side of you shine - the curse of Knowledge slipping through.

“Is that so?” He intertwines his fingers, his hands coming to rest in his lap. The Radio Demon is clearly amused with your statement - yet his radio static is nowhere to be found.

Interesting.

“Power and chaos. Isn’t that always the story?” You stand and take a step towards him, cautious yet curious to see how he will react.

“And what would you know of Roo?” His lips curl.

There it was. There’s the Radio Demon. The power-hungry murderer. God, that look gave you chills.

“I know that’s not her real name,” another step.

Alastor sits up straighter.

You can’t believe he hasn’t put it together - or he has, and he’s toying with you.

“Oh?”

“Rule number one of Hell, don’t go by your God-given name.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Roo’s real name…” You take another step, his eyes flicker over your form, noting the proximity. Was he anxious? You leaned forward, your hands on the armrests of his chair as you towered over him.

You stopped close enough to feel Alastor’s breath on your face, his eyes automatically dropping to your red lips. You smirked, “...was Eve.”

You feel the tattoo on your back shift as you break the rune which was sealing the magic within.

Words fly across your skin, roaming the unclothed flesh. Your sclera turned black, your hair coming undone by the power surging through every fiber of your being. Horns grew atop your head, your spiked tail unfolding from your backside. Your wings popped out, their black feathers shining in the light. The Radio Demon watched as you let the power of the Book of Knowledge, hidden deep within you, flow freely for the first time in nearly a decade.

He could feel it, he could smell it - the power so potent he could taste it on his tongue: roses, the Book forever carrying a remnant of its original owner, Eve.

You were the epitome of power - the Root of All Evil.

Roo.

After Lucifer ran off with Lilith, he returned to the Garden of Eden with a gift: the Book of Knowledge. He granted it to Eve before he left. Eve never said why he did it, but she was grateful. She would do anything to get away from Eden. Eve took the book and attempted to flee, but Father lured her back, using Adam as bait. Despite what the Second Woman claimed, part of you always believed she had feelings for the First Man...

But, before Eve was taken, she merged herself with the power from the Book so it could never be separated from her. They’d have to kill her for it.

Instead, Father had her locked up and contained. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t, and he didn’t want to risk that power passing on to a different hand only to breed a more powerful enemy.

Eve stewed in isolation for thousands of years before finding a way out, before she made her way back to Earth to brew chaos and destruction.

That’s when you were sent to find her. That’s when you befriended her. That’s when you killed her and took the power from the Book for yourself.

Alastor’s smile widens far past what you thought was possible for the demon. His eyes meet yours, his gaze exploding with fire.

“Interesting.” From the Void, Alastor pulls a blade - Velvette's blade. He palms the handle, gripping it in greedy temptation as you, the object of all his desires, stand before him.

You couldn’t recall when the Angelic blade had ended up in his possession, but you weren’t surprised. You knew he was going to try and kill you when he found out - he’d need Angelic steel to do that.

The demon cups your face, his thumb running across your cheek. You could see the hunger for power in his eyes, the constraint with which he fought to maintain composure. Briefly, his pupils flashed into radio dials.

“Absolutely beautiful,” Alastor breathed, his voice absent of static. His lips found yours as he kissed you long and gently. You let yourself melt into him, memorizing his smell, his warmth, the way his lips felt against yours for one final time...

(Keep scrolling)

... and then Alastor plunged the blade deep into your belly.

Could you imagine if I just ended the series right there? That would be HILARIOUS, right? …right? Ha, ha, don’t worry, the story goes on.

-> Chapter Fourteen

History Guide (if you read any of this, read the red at the bottom; it's super important to understanding the fanfic):

1917, Russia - A month after Eve and Thestral's meeting in Russia, Grand Duke Michael Alexandrovich and the rest of the Romanov family were taken prisoner during the February Revolution in 1917, which ended Russia's involvement in WW1 and the Imperial reign of the Tsar. They were executed in July 1918. Yes, I am implying Eve had something to do with this. Link to Wiki

1923, Chicago - Al Capone (also known as "Scarface") was Chicago’s infamous Prohibition Era gangster. He was famous for bootlegging, illegal gambling, and violent crime. He ran one of Chicago's largest and most infamous gangs: Link to Wiki

1937 Lae, New Guinea - Amelia Earhart's - the famous American Aviation pioneer who attempted to become the first female pilot to fly around the world - last known location, before they found her plane in the sea, was Lae, New Guinea: Link to Wiki

1945, Germany - Did I just imply that Eve killed Hitler? Yes, yes, I did. Fun fact, Russia beat the USA to the Capitol of Berlin by only a few hours: Link to Wiki

1974, London - Although our protagonists (arguably antagonists at this point, am I right?) are in London and not Washington D.C., the major event of this segment is Nixon's resignation. I am implying that they had something to do with Watergate without directly stating it: Link to Wiki

*The Book of Knowledge: Okay, go back and watch Episode One, "Overture." In the beginning, when Charlie is reading the story of Heaven and Hell, there's a point where she says: "Together [Lilith and Lucifer], they wished to share the magic of free will with humanity, offering the Fruit of Knowledge to Adam's new bride, Eve, who gladly accepted." The scene shows Lucifer handing Eve a book. The idea here is that knowledge = power, and Lucifer handed over the most powerful well of magic to Eve unknowingly. Knowledge = power = literal physical power = power corrupts = Roo is born.

BOOM. The entirety of my fanfic was birthed from one scene in Hazbin Hotel! But, in actuality, I do think Eve is Roo in canon. Link to Transcript

Tagged Hoteliers (Let me know if you want to be added!):

@sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @mommymilkers0526 @goyablogsstuff

@eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @sillywormtrixareforkids @its-a-dam-blue-brick

@cloverresin20 @blue-bird251 @speedycoffeedelight @littlebluefishtail @saw1987

@mopeyghost @beelz3bub @fraugwinska @minamilinaqueen @demoarah

@diffidentphantom @divineknightmare @animecrazy76 @sleepykittycx @graunta

@reath-solia @satansdaughter123 @mysticatto

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